Loose Ends
by Dunedain789
Summary: When the 141 are betrayed, Shepherd didn't quite managed to destroy all of the loose ends. This is how I perceived MW3 would have turned out had Roach and Ghost survived the atrocities of shadow company.
1. Loose Ends

**Ok well this is my first fan fiction story EVER so please be nice. The first chapter is pretty much just an introduction and a bit of insight into Roach's mind before, during and after Sheppard's betrayal. Also I wanted to get an idea as to what I can do to make my writing better as I go along. So the idea was that Roach managed to get Ghost out of the fire. Seeing that his captain, MacTavish managed to crawl across the ground with a knife through his chest and kill Sheppard just after he had nearly drowned ,had his face beaten in my a car and by Sheppard's boot, I thought, What if Roach was as hard out? Plus I hate seeing those two die. They're just so damned cool. SO anyway. Disclaimer time. I don't own MW2 or any of the characters in this story. It's the POV of Roach. Hope you enjoy and PLEASE review. I'm keen on finding out how I did =)**

Loose Ends

I sprinted through the woods, dodging flying bullets and mortars from the Russian guards. Ghost and I had just collected the DSM and were making our way to the landing zone to meet General Sheppard and his convoy, our escape. A bullet sped past my head, whistling and spinning in the air. I shot blindly over my shoulder towards the general direction of the shooter and heard a satisfying yelp as my would-be killer was hit. Ghost sped past me, yelling into his headset information as to our location. My muscles ached and protested begging me to stop running. But the adrenalin pounding through my body told me if I stopped I would surely die. Mortars exploded around Ghost and I, spraying us with dirt and fallen leaves. Left, right, left, right. We dodged them and dodged them. I heard the distant sound of a helicopter approaching us. I felt total relief spread over me. We were saved. Thank god!

BOOM!

"ROACH!"

That was ghost wasn't it? My mind lazily rejected the thought. All I felt the over whelming desire to sleep. I felt warmth spread over the right side of my face and body. Had the sun come out? Why was I warm? My vision flickered as I tried to keep my eyes open. What was going on? Why are there explosions? And why was I bleeding?

"Roach, I've got you come on!"

I felt strong arms grab my vest and drag me across the ground. Ghost? My mind cleared and my vision returned. We were in danger of becoming a living shooting range. Russians were on all sides and mortars were exploding everywhere. Shit.

I felt the cold metal of my gun in my gloved hands. I lifted the gun slowly and aimed at the pursuers. I had to protect us. I fired into the approaching Russians killing some and incapacitating others. But it wasn't enough. Still more were coming, shooting at us as they ran. I returned fire desperate to save myself and Ghost. We were so close to safety. Comon Sheppard where are you?

"Thunder Two-One, I've popped red smoke in the tree line! Standby to engage on my mark!" I heard Ghost shout into the head set. Comon Sheppard! I fired into the rapidly gaining Russians again. COMON!

I saw the guards hesitate in their pursuit and the helicopter hovered over head. I heard Ghost yelling into his head set again. But I couldn't make it out…. What did he say? My vision flickered again. NO! I had to keep fighting. I fired into the men again. I blacked out again. Comon Gary you can do this. I blinked my eyes furiously in an attempt to stay conscious. I fired once more into the pursuers. Without warning my vision went completely.

"Roach, hang in there!" I heard Ghost yell desperately at me. I had to get up! I couldn't make Ghost drag me onto the helicopter. I strained all my effort and concentration into opening my eyes. The gun shots and mortars stopped. All I could hear was the drone of the helicopter engine. I felt the distant thump as it landed.

"Comon get up! Get up! We're almost there!" I opened my eyes as Ghost pulled me up and slung my arm over his shoulder. We stumbled towards the helicopter. As we come closer I spotted Sheppard leaving the aircraft.

He approached covering his eyes from the dust and leaves kicked up by the spinning rotors. I made a grab for him as I lost my balance.

"Do you have the DSM?" yelled Sheppard over the noise of the engine. He was grasping me with his left hand, holding me steady.

"We have it sir" replied Ghost still supporting my weight. I looked at my friend. He had his trademark skull balaclava covering his face and his orange sunglasses shielding his eyes. Sweat beaded just above his sunglasses from the effort of dragging me. I felt guilt at the vulnerable position I had put him. I'd have to make sure I never put his life in this much danger again.

"Good" Sheppard purred, "That's one less loose end". I turned back to face him, when I heard an explosion and felt pain in my midsection. My eyes widened with shock as I fell to the floor, confused and disorientated. What just happened? Was I just shot by a guard from behind? I looked up at Sheppard only to see a gun in his hand, smoking from a bullet he just fired. What?

"NO!" Ghost screamed as he turned from my limp form towards Sheppard, raising his gun.

Bang!

Ghost fell with a thump on the leaf strewn ground next to me. No, no, no, no, NO! This wasn't supposed to happen. Sheppard leaned over me and began to search the pockets of my vest for the DSM.

"No" I moaned pitifully as I tried vainly to push him away with my arms. Too late. He stood up, with the DSM in his hand a triumphant smile spreading over his lips. No. He waved his arms and beckoned his men over. They stood, menacingly over me and bent over to grab my legs and arms. Get your hand off me! Get off! I tried of squirm, to move, to yell. Anything. Nothing. My body refused to respond to the orders my mind screamed at it. Please! Ple..a..s..e… Finally my vision left me.

I felt them carry me roughly and begin to swing me. What were they doing? Where they going to throw me? I opened my eyes just before I left them let go of my arms and legs. I was thrown into a pit and rolled when I hit the ground. I saw them carry Ghost over and throw him in. Time seemed to slow as they threw his body next to mine. He rolled when he hit the ground. I saw blood seeping through his vest where he was shot by Sheppard. Then he rolled over facing me. I saw his eyes through his orange glasses. Icy blue, penetrating. Was he..? No. He couldn't be. Not Ghost. Ghost would never be killed by something like a bullet. He couldn't be. Blood soaked the front of his vest. No he's not. A tear slipped down my cheek anyway as I saw my friend lying beside me, shot by the person we thought we could trust. My vision flickered again.

I spotted one of Sheppard's men carry over a bottle of gasoline walking towards us. He had a look of total disgust on his face, which he kept hidden from Sheppard. He hated doing this. It finally struck me. I knew what they were planning to do. My stomach sank and I felt a wave a nauseous wash over me. My heart rate sped up as the man inclined the bottle over my body.

I felt the cool liquid wash over me, stinging the injury from the mortar and burn at the gunshot wound. I desperately closed my eyes trying to keep the gasoline out of them. When the bottle was empty the man turned his back on me and walked quickly away from the sight. I looked up and saw Sheppard. He was standing above me, with a twisted smirk on his face, smoking a cigar. It's red hot tip burnt horribly. So smoking does kill, I thought. How ironic. And this fuck is going to kill me with it. He took it out of his mouth and blew out a puff of smoke. He flicked the lit cigar into the pit, lighting the gasoline instantly. I felt the fire lick around my face and hands. I saw Sheppard walk away slowly and signaling with his hands for a pick up to the helicopter.

In the distance I heard a radio. It was Captain Price. He yelled desperately for us not to trust Sheppard. He and Captain MacTavish were under attack by Sheppard's men at the bone yard in Afghanistan. But his distressed call was too late… There was nothing he could do. It was too late… too late… The helicopters roared over head carrying the traitor Sheppard and his men. I thought of my team. All the lives lost. And for what? It had all been in vain. Another tear slipped down my cheek as I felt the flames rise higher. There was no pain yet. The fire was still busy consuming the petrol. It wouldn't be long though until I felt my flesh burning away. There had to be something I could do. Anything!

**I know I finished where the cut scene stopped and you already know all about this part anyway. I just wanna know how I did description and writing wise. If it was any good then I'll write more. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Claustrophobic

**UGH! Trying to figure out how to upload chapters onto ff is a mission and a half! **

**Ok I'm trying to keep some realism in here. So I looked at the cut scene in Loose Ends again and again and thought that the black out at the end is different from when Roach was losing consciousness which means he is still conscious when Shepherd walks away. So I thought, what would be a good way to stop the fire? Its petrol fueled so Roach only has seconds to react and Shepherd would have noticed if he had pulled himself out in such a short space of time. AND I realized, with some horror, that I spelt Shepherds name wrong throughout the entire last chapter! *cringe***

**ANYWAY! Next chapter is up! Hope you guys like it! Rate and Review PLEASE!**

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Chapter 2: Claustrophobic

I watched Shepherd walk away slowly, signaling the chopper for a pick up. I continued to stare. I wanted to scare him if he saw me. I wanted him to see the glowing determination and hatred what now shone in my eyes. The fire had only just begun. Com'on Shepherd turn round. Turn around you gutless bastard!

Suddenly he stopped, pausing momentarily, fingers digging in the pockets of his vest. He pulled out a green ball and yanked something out of it. It was a grenade. He wanted to make sure we were completely dead. No more loose ends. He threw the grenade over his shoulder in my direction without casting a backwards glance. The dull thud vibrated through the ground as the grenade landed. I shut my eyes against the building heat from the flames, accepting my fate. Not long now. Not long now...

BOOM!

The explosion was to my left. A flash from the explosion pierced my eyelids. Before anything registered in my mind, I felt the pit collapse as it flooded with dirt and leaf debris. The fire was immediately extinguished. The crushing dry soil from above pushed on my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs and pushing on my face. Helicopter blades ripped through the sky above, muted slightly by the soil that was now surrounding me. Surely Shepherd must have seen what has happened. He will come back to finish the job. I lay there waiting for the tell tale sound of approaching footsteps that would call out my death.

Nothing

All I heard was the dimming roar of the coppers as they left. Hang on... they're... leaving..?

Confusion swept through me. Why were they leaving? They should be coming back. No more loose ends… right?

Immediately an overwhelming fear grasped me, crushing my thoughts, making my head spin when I realized what had happened. I was buried under soil. UNDERGROUND! I had always been extremely claustrophobic! I felt my heart thud erratically against my ribs, as I ripped my hands through the soil desperately. My breathing became shallow and panicked. Put me against an entire base of enemies and I kept my cool. I could think, move and kill with complete clarity and precision. Put me in a closet or underground however...

I dug and dug, pushing through. My head span. Get out. Get out!

My hand broke the surface of the earth. I pushed against the soil again. Almost there! When my head emerged, the bright sun high above blinded me. I pulled the rest of my body out of the soil until finally my boots came free. I coughed as I tried to get rid of any dirt that had invaded my lungs. Pain shot up from my mid section and coursed through my entire body like poison. My vision went white for a few seconds and I swear I saw stars. Panic still made my head spin and made logical thought impossible. I stared at the sky trying to gather my thoughts while my breathing slowed. I felt something tug of the edges of my conscious. Why did I feel like I had forgotten something? An assortment of images flickered before my eyes. Shepherd with a smoking gun, the fire, the mortar explosion, Ghost falling to the grou- GHOST!

I ripped my head round towards where he should have been lying. He was buried under the soil just like I was. I dug frantically in the area where he should be. My hands scooped around the soil, moving it aside and away from my friend. Each time pain rumbled gently through my body until finally my hands rubbed against fabric and Velcro. I grappled at the object and pulled. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes against the agony springing from my belly. I had to get him out. There was no excuse.

As it had turned out, I had grabbed his Kevlar vest. I yanked firmly against the course blue material, freeing his upper body from the ground. Beneath his skewed orange sunglasses, his eyes were shut. I let go of his clothing and allowed myself to rest for a moment. I doubled over as I realized how much I hurt from the fire and from the gunshot. Red shiny burns crawled up my arms, neck and face. Blood flowed slowly from my just below my rib cage, soaking my clothes in the red liquid making me cold. I gasped in shock as I touched the area lightly, sending a wave of pain through me again. Ignore it for now I told myself firmly.

I crawled my way around to the back of Ghost's head and grabbed a handful of his grey clothing. I mentally fought with myself as I pulled on his jacket, fighting the desire to let him for the sake of my injuries. He was free of the soil in seconds, lying in the warmth of the setting sun. I panted as I held myself awkwardly in an attempt to reduce the agony now clawing its way up my chest.

Ghost was covered in dry dirt and dead leaves. His clothes and balaclava were still smoldering gently from the fire. He looked almost peaceful, behind his orange sunglasses, like he was deep in slumber. I began to panic as I stared at his unmoving form. What if he's dead?

I gently placed my shaking hands to his neck to feel for any sign of a heartbeat. My breath caught. Nothing.

Warm salty tears began to roll down my cheeks leaving crusty trails behind them. I shook violently as sobs wormed their way up my throat causing me to gasp. I had to stay calm. If there was anything around or anyone left I had to have my wits about me. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, filling my lungs with cold air. Ghost had died in an attempt to protect me. If I had just been able to stand, if I had dodged that mortar then he might still be alive. The final moments of his life flashed before my eyes. I heard him scream "NO!" just before Shepherd shot him. My entire team was dead. Archer, Ozone, Scarecrow, Toad… Their faces swam before my tear-soaked eyes as a dull ringing filled my ears. It had all been for nothing. Ghost and the team had all died in a vain. I choked on another sob as I remembered Captain Price's dire warning over the radio.

"Do not trust Shepherd. I say again, do not trust Shepherd. SOAP GET DOWN!"

I threw my head back and searched the sky desperately. What if the other team had been eliminated? Captain MacTavish and Captain Price. Were they alive? What if… what if I was the only surviving member of the 141 left?

Grief and a fresh wave of panic broke through my calming breathing pattern and another sob escaped my throat.

"Oh god" I whispered, crying gently as I rocked back and forth, ignoring the throbbing pain in my gut. I didn't care if I died now. I don't care. I don't care. I don-

An electric shock buzzed through me, causing my heat to stutter. My fingers were still on Ghost's neck, forgotten during my moment of grief. Did I just feel…. a pulse?

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**Well this is my terrible idea of a cliff hanger. Is Ghost alive or dead? OHHH! The suspense! Please rate and review! Let me know how well (or terrible) I've done. I'm planning to develop characters soon so please bear with me. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Balaclava

**OK PEOPLE PLEASE! REVIEW! I need help to get this story moving quickly and to get it looking good. Otherwise I****T'S LIKE I'M DRIVING THE WORLD'S SLOWEST TRAIN WRECK EVER****! So review PLEASE! Anything you love or hate tell me please.**

**So I looked at the "death" scene over and over (It's awful, don't do it) to try and locate where the bullet went through on Ghost. It looks like there should be two when he rolls into the pit. But since we only heard Shepherd fire once, I recon what looks like another gunshot is just blood spread over his clothes (like it is on his mask).**

**Had a bit of writer's block this week and am trying to find out how the story is going to turn out. If all goes to plan two main characters WILL die! MUAHAHAHAHA! Any ideas or input would be fantastic! Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 3: Balaclava

I stared at Ghost's masked face in shock. My heart raced as I dug my shaking fingers frantically into his neck, trying to find some faint sign, any sign, of life. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I felt it. A faint pulse brushed lightly under my fingertips.

I laughed into the frigid air, giddiness rushing through me like a drug, making my head spin. I stared at the sky, a silly grin spread over my face as I sighed in relief. I turned back to Ghost who lay beside me, alive. But my grin vanished as soon as I laid my eyes on his chest. Blood was soaking his warm, white clothes crimson, gradually spreading, escaping his body.

I yanked out my combat knife and sliced at my jacket. 4 rolls of the warm material fell off. Carefully I unclipped his vest and began to roll up his clothes, exposing his chest to the cold air. Powerful abdominal muscles decorated his belly, each showing up in sharp relief against his skin. One large crescent shaped scar shone in the fading sunlight. It was raised slightly, a reminder of his terrible past. I cringed internally at the memories he had shared with me about how he had obtained it. Burns crept up his arms and over his torso. But it was nothing too serious. His mask was lightly singed too. We had escaped from the fire with very little to show for it. I was eternally grateful for Shepherd's stupidity and that the clothes we wore were relatively fireproof.

Carefully I peeled the material away from the wound. It had an exit wound which just missed his spine. Blood oozed out slowly causing my stomach convulse, sending a wave of agony through my tummy. I needed to work quickly.

I rolled up two of the strips of material and pushed one roughly over the bleeding hole in the front of his chest, suppressing the bleeding considerably. I took the other two strips and knotted them together at the end, making a crude bandage. I kept pressure on the rolled cloth as I tried to wrap the bandage over his chest and the rolled fabric. I rolled him over and placed the other piece of rolled fabric on the exit, wrapping the bandage the whole way round his chest. I tied the bandage tightly to hold the suppressors in place and proceeded to roll his shirt back down. The vests we wore were tight fitting to make them suitable for stealth missions. With the added material, the vest would have no trouble in pressurizing the wounds. I rolled Ghost onto his back, head lolling slightly, and began to clip the vest back up. It sure was a tight fit. I could hardly get the clips to meet. I wasn't too worried about compressing his chest to the point of suffocation. I knew it would take a helluva lot of pressure to choke someone to death with a vest. Corsets women wore were tighter than this.

I stared at his masked face. Blood was smeared over his balaclava giving it a gruesome look. I knew I had to take off the mask so he could get as much air as he needed because of the vest, which hindered his breathing. But it seemed wrong to unmask him. I had seen his face many times before. His reasons for keeping his face hidden were known only to Captain MacTavish and me. I sighed heavily as I reached out slowly with my hand, gently removing his orange sunglasses. They dropped to the soil with a dull thump. Hooking a finger under the base of the balaclava I removed the mask.

Ghost was usually a good-looking bloke, but right now he looked like a bedraggled hobo. His jawbones were covered by several days growth of whiskers. His dark hair, which extended just past the base of his skull, was matted with sweat. Dark lines of sleep deprivation and stress gave him a haggard look.

As I watched him I felt exhaustion crawl up my spine, draining me of the little energy I had. Fatigue swallowed me up, wrestling me to the ground. I felt the adrenalin leak from my body and the familiar pain in my belly returned. I had been so damned focused on Ghost I had almost forgotten my own injury. Although you may think it's dumb that you could forget you're hurt as badly as I was, you must never underestimate the power of adrenalin.

My blistered fingers fumbled with the clips on my own vest, hearing a slight click as it came undone. I winced as I rolled up my clothes and felt the cold bite into my skin. I glanced down at the wound. It was probably worse than Ghost's if not for the location of the shot. Blood rushed over my skin leaving it warm. I groaned and focused my attention at the sky, swallowing back another wave of nausea. The mortar shell that had blown up next to me, however, seemed to have left no serious injury at all. A few light grazes and cuts. I had heard of being shell shocked before but I had never expected it to be that debilitating. Once again I pulled out my combat knife, slicing off three more pieces of material. I rolled one up and jammed it into the wound. The bleeding was staunched immediately. The pain however, rushed through me in waves setting my entire body on fire. I grit my teeth and fought the impulse to scream, closing my eyes so tightly that my facial muscles cramped. Tears of pain began to form behind my closed eyelids as I tried to even out my irregular breathing patterns.

After what seemed forever, the pain began to ebb away into a gentle throb. I carefully began to tie the remaining two pieces of material together making another crude bandage. I wrapped the material around my front and tightly. I pushed down what remained of my warm clothes, which wasn't much, and clipped up my vest. The pain didn't return as strongly as it had the first time but the vest did the job. I couldn't feel the blood creeping over my skin anymore.

I exhaled carefully as I laid my head down on the hard ground, staring up at the tops of the large pine trees. What were we going to do now? We were fugitives being hunted down by those who had once been our allies. My thoughts turned to Shepherd. Why would he have done that? What could have possibly possessed him to turn his gun on his own Task Force? It made no sense. And what about MacTavish? And Captain Price? Were they ok? Were they alive? I was sure that they could get out of Afghanistan without getting hurt. They were the best. But then again, Ghost had also been one of the best. And here he was, lying unconscious next to me in a forest with a gunshot through his chest, fighting for his life.

I sighed and rubbed my head, wincing as the injury flared up again. I honestly didn't want to think about anything right now. I was well aware of how much I wanted to sleep. My eyelids refused to stay open. But I knew I couldn't fall asleep. Fear of returning Russians kept me alert. But how could I possibly even hope to protect Ghost if they came down here and found us. I could hardly scratch my head let alone fire a high-powered weapon.

I could attempt to contact the rest of the 141. If they were still alive…

NO. They had to be alive, I thought firmly to myself. They couldn't all be dead.

I reached down to my vest again, opening up one of the larger pockets at the bottom. The sound of tearing Velcro echoed through the woods. My fingers closed over a cold plastic object and I yanked. It was our back up radio, used incase our primary radio communication bottomed out. I had only used it once before when I had a lucky miss with a bullet. Unfortunately my radio transmitter hadn't been so lucky. Most of my team believed I was dead until I managed to contact them on the secondary radio. That had been when I was christened with my nickname, Roach. Virtually un-killable. How true that seemed right now.

I flicked the rubber switch to on, creating a loud, familiar crackling static, causing me to immediately turn down the volume. I twisted the small dial at the top. The radio hummed quietly in my hand as I sped through the radio frequencies, getting closer to the channel that was being used by Captain MacTavish and Captain Price. Soon I'd find out if they had survived Shepherd's betrayal. My heart skipped a beat at the idea. Please let me hear one of their voices, I thought desperately.

"-this is a one way trip mate". Captain Price's voice rang through the radio. My heart skipped a beat. Instinctively my muscles tightened. Pain once again raced though my body. I grit my teeth and clamped my eyes shut. I needed to let him know I was alive.

"Then good luck my friend" replied a familiar Russian voice. It was Nikolai. He had pretty much acted as the 141's pilot, helping us get in and out of tricky situations where no other air support was given. He gave a final sigh over the radio before it fell silent. The pain in my abdomen subsided and I raised the radio to my mouth.

"This is Roach. Does anyone copy?"

The radio quietly hummed with static in my hand as I waited for a response. None came.

"This is Roach. Does anyone copy?" I said desperately into the radio. I released the transmission button. Again, the radio hummed. Frustration boiled in my stomach. Someone must have heard me! I could hear them a second ago.

"This is Roach. If anyone reads me come in!" I yelled into the radio, distress ringing in my voice. FOR GODS SAKE

"THIS IS ROACH! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME ANSWER ME!" I screamed into the radio, anger at the hopelessness of the situation rushing through me. Once again the radio's static was the only reply I got.

I shouted in fury, the sound echoing through the woods as the circumstances of the situation crashed against my conscious. I knew I should stay calm and quiet, but despair clawed up my chest. I was stuck in the middle of Russian territory without any means of communication and no way of moving to get help. My best friend was getting closer and closer to dying by the second and on top of that Shadow Company was hunting my team down.

I stared at the sky again, fighting the tears of defeat that formed in my eyes. We were going to die right here and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. The radio buzzed with static in my hand. I sighed and moved to turn the radio off.

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**OHHHH Suspenseful. Will Roach be able to make contact with the 141? Will Ghost survive being shot in the chest? This chapter was originally supposed to be WAY longer than it is. But then 2 pages turned into 3. Then 4. Then 5. Quick issue I noticed in the pervious chapter. I will change the time of day it is set in cause time zones make no sense right now (cause Price and Soap get Shepherd towards the end of the day in Afghanistan which would be mid afternoon at the Russian-Georgian border where Ghost and Roach are). ANYWAY! PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW! Will try update soon. I'm thinking about having Ghost come back to consciousness soon. Can't have him sleep for most of the story can we.**

**IMPORTANT: Roach is NOT GAY. Just making sure that is completely clear. Sorry if descriptions of Ghost sounded a bit bad. All I'm trying to get across is that Ghost is a pretty good-looking guy, not that Roach has any romantic feelings for him.**


	4. Suicide

**OK! Next chapter. Phew! First off. A HUGE THANKYOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! Your encouragement means the world to me. You made my day every time you reviewed! Please keep me updated. Anything you love. Anything you hate. Tell me. I really hope the rating is at the right level for the story… ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy Chapter 4.**

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Chapter 4: Suicide

_I stared at the sky again, fighting the tears of defeat that formed in my eyes. We were going to die right here and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. The radio buzzed with static in my hand. I sighed and moved to turn the radio off._

"Roach. This is Nikolai. Are you there my friend?"

My heart skipped a beat

"NIKOLAI?" I yelled into the radio, louder than I meant. I couldn't believe it

"Roach, you're alive? What about Shepherd. What happened? Where are you" Nikolai's voice yelled over the radio.

"Shepherd shot both me and Ghost. We're alive but I don't think Ghost is going to last for more than two days without medical attention. Where are Captain Price and Captain MacTavish? Are they with you?". My voice was unusually high, cracked with a surge of relief that my call had been answered.

Static emanated from the radio again.

"Nikolai? Can you hear me?" I said, unsure if Nikolai was having transmission difficulties.

"I can hear you Roach. Uhh. Price and Soap. They've gone after Shepherd. I just dropped them off at Site Hotel Bravo, Shepherd's base camp."

OH SHIT! They're going after one of the most influential soldiers in the US military. And they were infiltrating a heavily armed military base to do it. And most likely to avenge me and Ghost.

"Nikolai are you still in contact with them? You need to tell them that we're alive" I yelled desperately into the radio, my words hurried and fumbled.

"Dah I would, but Price just cut all contact with me. He's told me to leave"

Captain Price's final words over the radio resonated in my ears. _'this is a one way trip mate'_. My breath caught. They were on a suicide mission.

"NO!" I shouted out loud. They couldn't do that! Not now! I pressed down the transmission button again. "Nikolai please! Is there anyway you can get in contact with them?" I said, agitated and desperate.

"I'm afraid not my friend. They're on a one way frequency now."

I began to panic as images of the broken bodies of MacTavish and Price, rushed into my head. There had to be a way.

"Is there anyway to track them through the base. Pick them up when they're in the clear?"

"Well ahead of you Roach! I've tapped into the enemy's comms. It's a little fuzzy but I can still track them." Said Nikolai. His voice sounded triumphant.

I rubbed my head in frustration. It was the best we had right now.

"Listen Nikolai. I need to you wait for them. I need you to collect them as soon as they're in the clear" I said quickly, my voice was dripping in fatigue.

"Ok Roach. But what about you and Ghost, you'll need transport quick too-"

"Nikolai just deal with Price and MacTavish first" I snapped, cutting him off. I shouldn't have been so short with him, but I was becoming more and more agitated about the situation. I felt a surge of guilt as Nikolai heaved a sigh over the radio.

"I will wait for them and then I will collect you after they're safe or I will send someone to collect you. I have a place where we can lie low for a while. There are medical teams and rations there"

What? The only places where I knew there were medics and rations were at base camps and all the base camps close by belonged to the Americans… I dismissed the questions that rose in my mind. "Ok. Just make sure you get them out of there. Once you have them contact me. I'll leave my radio on"

"Alright. Good luck my friend. I will see you soon"

I heard Nikolai's radio click off the frequency. Once again static resounded around the woods. I let my head fall to the ground with a soft thump, lowering my hand and radio to the cold soil. Dark clouds were starting to clutter up the sky, casting long shadows on the land below. Birds were returning to the area, softly calling to each other.

I looked back over at Ghost. His hair was strewn about his face, covering the ground like a blanket, the light wind tousling it slightly. His breathing was regular except for the occasional stutter. Pretty bloody good, considering where he got shot. The dressings that surrounded his chest still held firm, preventing any more blood from escaping his damaged body.

We had never got on as well as we did now. When I first arrived at the 141, one year ago, I met Sergeant Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Upon seeing him for the first time, I thought he was a scary stuck up, over indulgent prick, arrogant with his authority, bestowed upon him by Captain MacTavish and General Shepherd. But that just proved first impressions weren't always right. He was an exceptional leader and wonderful person that remained entirely loyal to his friends and team. We were close enough to be brothers now; a friendship we had both embraced considering neither of us had no family left. But we had lost them under very different circumstances. A shiver ran up my spine as I considered his past.

Don't think about that, I thought to myself. That was just a bad place to go

My thoughts drifted to Captain MacTavish. He had acted as a big brother to me since the day I had arrived. He kept both Ghost and I in line when he felt the need, caring for any member of the team if we got hurt or sick. He was the best leader I knew. However he had never given the team any knowledge of his past, a challenge the men had accepted with gusto. Soon there was a betting pool set up. The person who found out exactly who the Captain was and where he was from, would earn all the money that was currently in the betting pool (it was currently up to £250). It was only recently that we learnt his nickname was Soap, when we met Captain Price.

Our team had picked up Captain Price only a few days ago. He went a long way back with MacTavish and I respected him for that. A friendship and mutual trust began to develop between us when we infiltrated a Russian military base together. Ghost however, wasn't so quick to trust Price, but he obeyed his orders regardless and accepted he was a great leader.

The sky was now completely covered in dark clouds. The birds had fallen silent once again. The wind began to pick up, ruffling my light brown hair. Another shiver rocked though my body as I tried to keep warm. I glanced back over at Ghost. I noticed him tremble slightly. But his breathing was still regular, a good sign.

I felt my eyelids droop again. There was nothing left to do. I justified that if the Russians found us there'd be no way of defending ourselves, so I might as well get some sleep. I wrapped the remains of my warm jacket around me, wincing at the injury. Sleep quickly engulfed me into a shroud of white haze of numbness and I felt my mind go blank. I fell into a deep sleep, untroubled by dreams or fears. And for the first time in months, I felt totally at peace.

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I opened my eyes only to find myself in a dark room. Metal clinked around me in the darkness. I tried to move but found my hands and legs bound by itchy, worn rope. I began to yell, but a gag muffled my voice. I felt cold. Wait… was I… naked? My heart rate increased as I realized I had been captured. What was going on? Where was I? Still the sound of clicking metal surrounded me. I shivered as a breath of wind washed up my exposed thigh. My eyes searched the darkness, darting back and forward as I tried to keep calm. I heard voices outside the room. But they didn't sound Russian. The language almost sounded like…. Mexican?

A door smashed open in front of me, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. I blinked furiously against the spots of color that filled my vision. The door slammed shut almost immediately, leaving me in complete darkness once again. I began to struggle against my bonds.

"That won't do you any good," purred a voice right next to my left ear.

The sound made me jump and struggle harder. The voice chuckled darkly into my ear, his hot breath trickling down my neck. I heard him move away, causing me to tremble. My eyes flittered around me, scanning my surroundings for the source of the voice.

The sound of metal filled my ears again as fingers traced the steel instruments hanging on the walls. My heart fluttered bounding off my ribs. Where was he? What was he doing? My head spun as thoughts bounced around my skull. I was sure I knew what that metal was for. Tools. Cold, hard metal instruments, used for torture. I quivered where I sat, feeling warm blood trickle down my hands and congeal into droplets at my fingers, as the rope bonds cut into my skin.

"I'm going to enjoy doing this to you English…" the voice whispered right next to me. My body froze up as I choked on fear. I cringed against the agony that was sure to come, struggling with the rope that held my limbs firmly in place. A scream built up in my throat…

Thought I'd end the chapter on a bit of a scary note. This it the first time I've ever written a torture scene. Very intense, interesting but slightly scary too. Maybe I should bump up the rating to M? Anyway please rate and review. REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS GREATLY APPRECIATED. They get me writing more. Once again a HUGE thank you to those who reviewed the story so far. Please! Even if you have already, keep telling me how I'm doing. Feedback is ALWAYS greatly appreciated. AND if you haven't reviewed yet PLEASE DO!


	5. Brother

**Okidoki. Feels like it's been a LONG week. HUGE THANK YOU FOR ALL THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED SO FAR! I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the story is also lightly based on the comics about Ghost. If you haven't read then don't panic. I will tell you what happened as the story goes on…

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Chapter 5: Brother

"_I'm going to enjoy doing this to you English…" the voice whispered right next to me. My body choked on fear as I sat, cringing against the agony that was sure to come. A scream built up in my throat…_

BZZZZSSSHHHHHHHHH!

The radio screamed in my ear as I yanked my self off the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs as I frantically scanned my surroundings. After a moment of disorientation I realized that I was still in the wood on the boundary of Makarov's estate.

"Shit" I gasped, as I attempted to slow down my rapid breathing

I glanced down at my wrists. There was no blood or marks from where the ropes that had sliced into my flesh only moments ago. The dream had been so real. So completely and utterly terrifying. I subconsciously rubbed my gloved hand over my face, in a vain effort to calm myself.

BZZZZSSSHHHHHHHHH!

My eyes moved from my wrists down to radio that was clenched so tightly in my hand, my knuckles were white. My fingers must have slipped over the volume, causing the loud static. I quickly quietened it, sliding index finger over the dial, making the static drop back down to a faint hum.

I lowered myself gingerly to the ground, holding my breath until my back made contact with the earth. I exhaled quietly as my thoughts turned back to the nightmare. I knew what had sparked it. I had been thinking about Ghost's past when I drifted off to sleep.

I subconsciously turned my head towards him. He was still alive, but he looked hauntingly pale. His breath misted above his slightly parted lips each time he exhaled. How could he look and act so normal after what had happened to him? It had only been a nightmare for me. But he had lived through that hell for months.

I groaned as I felt blood begin to dribble down my sides. The sudden movement when I woke up must have moved the cloth. Goddamnit. I gasped as I tried to ignore the awful sensation.

"Roach this is Price, come in!"

I jumped at the sudden noise, whipping my head down to stare at the radio. Price?

"Roach if you can hear me answer!"

PRICE! HE'S ALIVE! Thank god! Giddiness welled up inside me as I fumbled with the transmission button

"Price! Are you with Nikolai?" My voice was euphoric. However unease and worry ate away at my stomach. Were they ok?

"IT'S BLOODY GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU MATE!" yelled Price ecstatically. "Yeah we are. Soap is in critical condition so we're going to get him medical attention ASAP. How's Ghost?" Price asked concerned resonated in his voice.

"He's alive, but we need air support soon. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Standby." The radio fell silent for a while as Price deliberated his options. I waited patiently, listening intently to the faint static from the radio with baited breath. Every second was critical and we were running out of time. I glanced at Ghost. He needed to hold on just a little longer.

"Ok Roach" Price finally said, "I'm going to get an old friend of mine to get you guys out of there. He should be based close by. He'll bring you to where we're heading."

Questions formed in my mind. Where would we go? How were we getting there? I ignored them. If this frequency was being listened to we needed to keep our locations quiet.

"Just look after MacTavish." I replied. Anxiety grappled at my mind. MacTavish must have been badly wounded. The entire Task Force knew that he wasn't taken down easily.

"I'm trying Roach. Standby. I'll get your transport organized."

"Rodger that. Standing by"

Once again the radio was quiet allowing an eerie silence to descend into the woods. I exhaled slowly, watching a line of steam trail from my mouth, twisting and contorting in the light breeze. It was starting to get bloody cold. I suppressed a shiver, knowing that the small movement would cause me severe pain.

My attention was diverted back to my injury by the feeling of warm liquid dripping down my sides. I closed my eyes as I tried to desperately to ignore it. Dizziness rushed through me, making my head spin.

"Roach. Come in Roach!"

I opened eyes slowly. It felt like my world spinning around me. I must have lost more blood than I originally thought. I moved the radio shakily back to my lips, swallowing loudly as I resisted the urge to vomit.

"Yeah I hear you" I replied groggily into the radio. Did he get hold of his friend? And if he had, was he going to help?

"Alright. The guy is a Russian loyalist. I've helped him out of a few sticky situations in the past. I've given him your location. He should be there within an hour. Stay on this frequency!" I heard a distant whimper over the radio. My stomach somersaulted at the noise. MacTavish? "I need to deal with Soap," Price said hurriedly, "Good luck."

"Thank you Price." I replied quietly, "Take care of him".

I lowered the radio slowly to the ground, closing my eyes against the world, which was now a spinning blur. It felt like my body was being pushed and pulled in every which way, leaving me disorientated**. **

As time dragged on, the dizziness was starting to improve. I sighed in relief. It'd be over soon.

Finally, the spinning stopped, leaving me feeling exhausted and ill-used. I squinted blearily through my eyelashes at the, sky which was now crowded with pitch black clouds. A tiny drop of water fell onto my cheek. Of course it WOULD rain, I thought sarcastically. Murphy's Law. More heavy drops fell, landing with a slight plop on the dead leaves that covered the dusty ground.

A groan to my left made me jump. Ghost's breathing had increased to a point where he looked like he was panting. His eyes were scrunched closed and his eyebrows furrowed in pain. He must have been swaying in and out of consciousness. He'd be almost fully aware of the injury he had sustained. His face contorted, baring his teeth as the pain level climbed.

Still more drops of water fell from the sky, spattering the trees with fresh water.

"Ghost?" I wanted him to know I was here. I wanted so desperately to tell him that everything would be ok. To tell him that help would be here soon. But how do you tell someone that help is on the way, when every nerve in their body burns like wild fire? How can you tell them everything is ok while they writhe in agony? A feeling of complete helplessness enveloped me. I had to let him know somehow, that he wasn't alone.

I heaved myself over onto my belly with my arms and legs. My injury felt like it was being ripped open, tearing muscle and skin apart. I locked my jaw in defiance as I fought the impulse to yell. I began to drag my body over the hard ground, towards Ghost, reaching out to grasp his Kevlar vest. My entire body screamed in protest but I continued on, determined. I grabbed a handful of the cloth, feeling rough material slide beneath my gloved fingers. My hand remained clasped the vest, as I collapsed to the damp ground, unable to fight the terrible burning in my abdomen any longer.

At least he'd know someone was with him.

I held on for so what seemed to be an eternity. I refused to let go, when his breathing eased and his muscles finally relaxed. Even as I felt my blood draining from my body, mixing with the now water logged soil beneath, I never let go.

The rain increased with vigor, soaking my clothes, mixing my hair with the soft mud beneath my head. There was a sense of rightness about this I thought numbly as my vision flickered. Holding onto my '_brother'_, comforting him, letting him know that he wasn't alone.

In the distance, the dim roar of a helicopter could be heard as I faded out of consciousness. My final thoughts were of my mum and dad and the last night I spent with them before I left for the SAS. The last night I spent with them…

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**Phew. Major writers block this week. Can't seem to string two words together so sorry if the chapter is not as good as usual. Now before you flame me for not carrying through with the torture scene at the beginning of the chapter know that I had always intended for it to be a dream. It's a taste to Ghost's past. Possibly even a taste as to what's to come…? I PROMISE not to do many dreams (they get annoying very quickly!). For those who have played Call of Duty 4 I thought I'd add in a familiar character! I do intend to lighten the story up shortly. Anyway. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Anything you love/hate, tell me! And to those who have reviewed… THANKYOU! You guys rock!**

**IMPORTANT: I have exams in a few weeks so I'm afraid writing will be on the back burner for a while! I'll update when I've finished! Can't wait!**


	6. Intermission

Intermission

Bright sunlight pierced my eyelids flooding my vision with crimson dots. A baby cried over a gaggle of unfamiliar voices and the squealing of playing children. The stifling air stunk of bandages and harsh chemicals, causing me to choke. My exposed fingers traced woven cloth that was spread out underneath me, keeping my body off the dry, cracked earth. Someone close by yelled out causing me to flinch. The thudding of hurried footsteps vibrated through the ground as people began to swarm around me, their shadows blocking out the burning sun. Where the hell was I?

A sudden pressure was applied around my abdomen causing me to hiss with pain. I squirmed in a vain attempt to escape, only to have my arms and legs restrained. Someone shouted in a language I didn't understand causing me to struggle harder.

"Just relax. You're safe." The voice belonged to a woman. The sound was honey-sweet, velvet. Beautiful.

A sharp prick in my arm caused me to flinch.

"Relax" repeated the woman. Like I had a choice? My arms and legs began to feel like lead weights, dragging me further and further into unconsciousness. I fought against the dizzying drug, determined to stay alert. But it was no use. The harder I fought, the more exhausted I became. Finally I gave in, allowing the anesthetic to swallow me up. And in the darkness, I began to dream...

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**All right I know this isn't a proper chapter, it's just something I wrote in-between study. I hope it's alright and that it'll suffice till exams are over. Even though its not a proper chapter reviews are still welcome (really! I mean it! Please REVIEW!). So over the study and exams right now. Only two weeks to go...**


	7. Médecins Sans Frontières

**FREE! FINALLY! Well here you go. The next chapter. I also wrote a mini story on Soap while I was supposed to be studying for my exams (O.o) so I will up load that sometime in the future. Sorry it took so long to update. Finished my exams and then had writers block. Ah the story of my life. Just for some useless but cool information! If you want to find out the location of Soap and Price when they get to Shepherd's base camp (AKA Site Hotel Bravo) go onto Google maps and type in 31.974808,67.254524 . You can even compare it to the briefing for 'Just Like Old Times'. Yes I am that sad that I spent hours on Google Earth to find their location. AND I can tell you that the exact time it takes the trio to get from there to their safe place (as planned by me!) is 34 mins flight time! HA! God I'm sad….. Anyway! Next chapter! ENJOYYYY!

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Chapter 6:Médecins Sans Frontières 

Bleep…. Bleep

The irritating electronic noise crashed through my consciousness. A distant murmur of incoherent voices echoed in my ears. I could hear every breath I took, filling and emptying, like the sea would a long forgotten shell. Everything felt so unreal. The spinning of my head, the gentle wash of voices. Breathe.

Bleep…. Bleep

Faint wisps of thought passed through my mind, barely acknowledged before they were gone and forgotten. My limbs felt like lead weights and everywhere ached. It was just a constant wash of pain through my body.

Someone close by whispered, "How much longer?" The voice sounded oddly familiar. It was low, gravely and richly accented.

"He should be awake in an hour or so," came a hushed reply.

Bleep… Bleep

The obnoxious repetitive noise was beginning to annoy me. A machine whirred to life near by. The sharp click of high heels on a stone floor. Breathe.

The pain was intensifying with every second that passed. I gasped in lungfuls of stuffy, humid air like a fish struggling to breathe. It was worse than anything I had ever experienced before. I swear to god I was burning, from the inside out. Please let me die. I could have screamed, but instead a whimper passes through my lips. It sounds pathetic, even to me.

"NURSE!" a voice yelled out.

I barely acknowledged the sounds of running footsteps. I was hyperventilating now. Every part of me was drenched in ripping, scorching agony. Let me die, let me die, let me die.

"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" calls out a voice, so high and clear, you could have bottled it. Everywhere hurt. I can't even find my own tongue to answer them. Pain lashed through me, making me dizzy. A warm hand closed snugly into my open palm, which was covered in sweat.

"If you can hear me, squeeze my hand," said the voice. The only thing that seemed real was the pain. I squeezed the hand in response. Dizziness caused saliva to flood my mouth. Oh god I was going to vomit.

Something pressed over my mouth. It dug into my skin with enough force to leave faint pink marks behind. Instant relief washed over me and my breathing eased. The dizziness also started to fade. Even the pain was starting to fade, dripping away like melting ice in spring.

Tentatively, I opened my eyes, squinting though the bright white lights that flooded my vision. Everything was out of focus and hazy. Silhouettes bustled around me, fiddling with little machines and tubes.

Where the hell am I?

"Roach?"

I turned my head to a figure on my right. His eyes were red and bagged making him look double the age that I knew he was. His hair was grey speckled brown with a shiny bald spot in the center. His face was a mess of white sticky bandages and purple bruises.

"Price?" My voice was horse and muffled. Instinctively I reached to my mouth and removed an oxygen mask. "Where the hell am I?"

Price's eyes crinkled with a rare smile. "You're at MSF in Quetta," he chuckled, "You gave us one hell of a fright Roach. We thought we were going to lose you for a while there."

The MSF? This must have been what Nikolai was talking about. He must have done this sort of thing before, I thought. MSF, or Médecins Sans Frontières was a medical organization, which helped people regardless of race, creed or gender and is independent from any government. If there is a country where health structures are in short supply, Médecins Sans Frontières will often provide assistance. They were frequently situated near war zones to aid soldiers and refugees. I turned to look at the Captain. His face looked worn, worry lines stretching across his forehead.

With a jolt, I sat up, realization dawning on me. "What about Ghost? And Soap? Are they alright?" I asked in a panicked voice. Price instantly wrestled me back to my pillow.

"Are you daft boy? Didn't you hear me before? You almost died 2 days ago! Lay back down or you'll pull your stitches!"

I just continued to stare at Price, my eyes wide, searching his wrinkled face for some answers. Price just sighed and stared intently into my eyes.

"They're fine Roach! Soap has been conscious for a day and Ghost is still recovering from the anesthetic. You all had a close brush with death." Price's voice began to rise above the hushed chatter of the room. "Hell! Kamarov's men had to pump 2 litres of blood into you! That's a hell of a lot of blood Roach. How you managed to stay conscious to talk to me over the radio, I don't know!" The room had fallen silent and many patients and nurses turned to watch Price as his voice climbed to a yell. "If Ghost had been shot any closer to the left he'd be dead now. And Soap was just lucky we were as close to a hospital as we were." Price's face was flushed red with anger, his grey eyes sparkling with tears. "It's a bloody miracle you all survived. And it is bloody well my fault you almost died!" His voice cracked and he bent over, holding his head in agitation.

I just stared at him, dumbfounded. I had never seen Price lose control before and it scared the hell out of me. Pity welled up inside me and I reached out to him, tubes tugging on my arm. I felt uneasy, like a child watching a parent cry. Gingerly I placed my hand on the back of his head to soothe him. I half expected him to grab my hand and push it away. Instead he remained perfectly still, his face buried into the palms of his hands. I stayed silent, listening to the regular beeping of my heart monitor.

I knew he wasn't angry with me. He had just been terrified that he may lose his team, like he had 5 years ago. Being frightened for days on end just made you angry. Every soldier knew that. We had lived almost every waking hour scared for our lives.

At long last, Price raised his head and looked up at me. I gave him a small smile of reassurance, letting my hand slide off his head and come to a rest under the warmth of the blankets that surrounded me.

"You should go to sleep Price. You look like hell," I said quietly. My eyelids were starting to droop as morphine coursed through my body, making me dozy.

"Sorry Roach. I shouldn't have yelled," murmured Price. He reminded me of a school boy when he's been caught doing something naughty. I could have laughed at the expression but the hazy numbness of the morphine was starting to overwhelm me.

"T's Ok" I muttered thickly. My eyelids drooped. I heard Price chuckle and his chair creak as he stood up. Rough calloused hands placed the oxygen mask back over my mouth and stretched the attached elastic strip around my head.

"I'll see you when you wake up Roach."

"Yes sir," I replied groggily, my voice muffled by the mask.

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**Right! Next chapter should be good cause Roach should have his wits about him! Finally I can develop a bit more of his character! WOOOOO! Anyway! It's been a while since I've been writing (as you know) so if it wasn't as good as it usually is then I apologize and I should get better again soon! If you enjoyed it then GREAT! As usual, review PLEASE! AND A HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL WHO HAVE REVIEWED THE STORY SO FAR! Sorry that this chapter has been so LATE!**

**OH! And just another few fun facts. Quetta is actually in Pakistan and is 83km away from Site Hotel ****Bravo. A little bird helicopter (the helicopter Nikolai saves Soap and Price in) can cruise at a speed of 250km per hour. Roach and Ghost were shot with a full metal jacket bullet, thus causing less mushrooming effect and increasing their chance of survival. It just missed Ghost's right lung and ****subclavian artery. And Roach's ****abdominal aorta was just missed but unfortunately some of his intestines got damaged. BUT muscle wasn't particularly damaged so they stayed intact. The Human body has 4-6 litres of blood in it and Roach lost 30-40% of it. Which means he was a Class 3 hemorrhage, which is BAD! But he got a blood transfusion so YAY! Maybe I'm taking this a bit too seriously. Pfft! I don't care!**


	8. Sedatives

**I may actually have a plot line for the story now! *Gasp* And from the looks of things it'll be quite long. Anyway. Next chapter! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 7: Sedatives

I opened my eyes and blearily scanned my surroundings, realizing that I had been moved to a different, smaller room. Its walls were made of large bricks that had been painted a musty green color and its floors consisted of cold, hard concrete. A closed, painted wooden door stood at the end of my bed. Two creaky beds were pushed against the room's corners, both slightly obscured by patterned curtains that hung from dusty metal rails. Distinct lumps under their woollen, light blue duvets told me that they were occupied. Another bed, opposite to mine, was empty.

Sun light filtered through a single, slightly ajar window, glinting off floating dust mites. The muffled noise of the busy streets below echoed through the room, punctuated occasionally by the blare of a horn or the whine of a baby. The whole place smelt of medicine, plastic and richly spiced food. My stomach grumbled in response causing me to smile slightly. I couldn't even remember the last time I ate!

The pain had now lessened to a dull throb. Bags of clear liquid and a bag of blood dangled from a flimsy rusty pole. Tubes were taped to my arms; sharp needles pierced my skin, releasing the fluid into my veins. A sphygmomanometer was strapped around my bicep, waiting to take my blood pressure again. I gingerly tried to stretch my abdominal muscles, gasping as it sent fresh waves of pain through me. Almost instantly the curtain covering the bed on my right opened with a metallic screech. A pair of dark blue eyes surveyed me, wide with concern.

"Roach?"

I flashed a grin at the man. Apart from the bruises and white tape that plastered his face, he looked no different than he had last time I saw him. His ruffled dark brown hair shaved into his trademark Mohawk. He looked completely exhausted but his face cracked into a smile as he watched me.

"In the flesh" I replied beaming at him.

He chuckled darkly. "Roach's are bloody difficult to kill aren't they?"

"There is a reason I have that nickname sir."

I fixed my eyes on the other bed opposite to MacTavish's, my stomach filling with concern. Ghost?

MacTavish's eyes followed mine to the sleeping figure. "He's still sleeping," he muttered.

"Is he going to be alright?" I asked quietly still staring at the bed.

"Doctor says he's going to make a full recovery," replied Soap, now eyeing me with concern. "You were both bloody lucky to have survived. Kamarov said that they had to pump 4 litres into the both of you."

The mention of the name caught me off guard. Kamarov? Wasn't he the guy who saved us? The confusion must have shown on my face because MacTavish snorted with laughter before he doubled over, wincing and swearing.

"So what happened? Did you kill Shepherd?"

A small triumphant smile appeared on Soap's face as he made eye contact with me. I knew that smile. The mission had been a success. MacTavish had had his revenge. Shepherd was dead.

A sigh escaped my lips. I felt relieved and uneasy at the same time. Shepherd had betrayed the Task Force 141, yes. And he had paid for his betrayal with his life. But at what cost? He had been one of the most influential generals in the west. I was sure that every man who had followed him would be after MacTavish and Price's blood.

"So what happened to you," I asked quietly.

"The bastard stabbed me through the chest. I've got 6 broken ribs, a fractured sternum, depressed skull fracture, a broken nose and a punctured lung," grunted MacTavish dismissively.

"Come off it Soap," chuckled a voice from the doorway. Price walked in followed by Nikolai and another man, who I didn't recognize. "What he failed to mention was he pulled out the knife Shepherd had rammed into his chest and threw it at the bastard!"

I gazed back at Soap in awe. Jesus you'd think the guy was Chuck Norris! Soap just shrugged, his expression unreadable and distant.

Price fixed a watchful eye on me. "Good to see you're up Roach" he muttered, pulling up a rickety metal chair beside my bed. I gave him a small smile in response. MacTavish tried to sit up in his bed, only to collapse, hissing through his teeth in pain.

"Soap! I swear if you try to sit up again I'll break your other ribs," growled Price, glaring at MacTavish.

Nikolai and the stranger both snickered while MacTavish glared at Price. The stranger had light red, curly hair and thick beard. Grey eyes twinkled under bushy eyebrows. He gave me a glance and a small nod of recognition, which I returned shyly.

"This is Kamarov," announced Price, noticing the exchange, "He picked you and Ghost up from the Caucasus Mountains."

I stared back at the man. He was the reason Ghost and I were still alive. An overwhelming sense of gratitude came over me as I extended my hand saying "Thank you."

"I'm sure Price would have done the same for me," replied Kamarov gruffly, shaking my hand. His voice was heavily accented. Russian.

A groan came from behind the curtained bed opposite MacTavish, causing every man in the room to jump and spin round to the source of the noise.

Price stood up and began to make his way, slowly, over to the bed, careful not to make noise on the stone floor. I tried to sit up, only to be greeted by the all too familiar stabbing pain in my gut. It was frustrating not being able to see what was going on.

"Good to see you awake Ghost," said Price, his voice muffled by the curtain.

"It's impossible to sleep through all your chatter."

Giddiness overcame me. Ghost was awake! Alive and awake!

Price just laughed and pulled back the curtain. Ghost looked a lot better than Soap did. Or maybe it was just because he hadn't had his face bashed in. The bed propped up his upper back, making his face completely visible to everyone in the room. Thin plastic tubes wound around his wrists and elbows. A bag of crimson red blood hung over his head. He blinked against the brightly lit room, trying to focus on his surroundings.

"How're you doing Ghost?" MacTavish had managed to prop himself up on his elbows to see the lieutenant.

"Just fucking dandy," replied Ghost in a husky voice. "Where's Roach?"

"Over here!"

Ghost focused on my bed, his face cracking into a sleepy grin.

"Good to see you alive mate"

"Yeah you too," I said, flashing him a toothy smile.

Ghost turned his attention back to Soap, surveying him for a while.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ghost mumbled. His eyes were half closed, as if he was fighting to stay awake.

BANG!

The door smashed open as 2 figures marched through the doorway. They wore crumpled light blue uniform, which consisted of a light blue skirt that reached halfway down the calf and rough cotton shirt with short sleeves. Both wore an expression of annoyance. I guessed they were nurses from the stethoscopes that hung around their necks. One strode over to my bed, the other to Ghost's. I glanced at the paper nametag stuck to the front of her shirt. Natasha. Her short black hair was tied back into a tight ponytail. Black rings under her eyes shone through concealer makeup. She scowled at me, like I had done something wrong. I shrunk away her instinctively.

"You should be asleep," she snapped, glaring at me.

I felt utterly perplexed. What do I say? Sorry for waking up?

I could have laughed at how silly it sounded even in my head, but I swallowed it down, terrified of what she'd do if she thought I found her funny while she was angry. I tried to look ashamed. I glimpsed at Price, who was busy trying to stifle a giggle, while Soap was bent over, laughing silently and wincing at the same time.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I had no idea what I was apologizing for but it was all I could think of. I glanced back at her face, hopeful. Her eyes seemed to soften slightly but she kept the scowl in place while her hands fluttered over tubes and wires. She unlocked a small wall cupboard next to my bed and pulled out a needle and syringe filled with clear liquid. I flinched at the sight. I hated needles. I had never been able to stand them. Even when I was little and I used to get a lollypop for sitting still and being a good boy, I hated them. Nurse Natasha must have noticed cause a small smirk spread across her lips. I think I preferred the scowl to the smirk. I focused on the ceiling and swallowed loudly, waiting for the sharp sting. Instead she shoved the needle into one of the IV tubes.

"You'll be asleep again in a few minutes," she announced, stalking away from me towards Soap's bed. I watched with amusement as she injected a dose of the chemical into Soap's IV line, much to his dismay.

Price moved back over my bed while the both nurses dealt with Ghost.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked. I wanted to stay awake so that we could plan how to get the hell out of this mess. Questions raced through my head. Where were we going to go where we'd be safe from Shepherd's men? Who could we trust? My eyes flicked back to Kamarov. I owed him my life, but it would be a while until I could trust anyone again.

"We?" asked Price. "You, Ghost and Soap are going back to sleep. You obviously have no idea how badly you're hurt."

I noticed Soap roll his eyes behind Price, annoyed that he had no control over when he'd go to sleep. The sound of high heel shoes clacked across the concrete floor towards the door. My eyes drifted shut. It felt like I was floating an inch off the bed. I wanted to stay awake. We had important things to discuss! My body had other plans.

"We're discussing this when I wake up," I murmured back, finally giving into the drug.

Price's laughter bubbled around me as I fell asleep.

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**PHEW! Sorry but I couldn't resist the Chuck Norris comment. We all know Soap MacTavish could OWN Chuck Norris with one hand tied behind his back and a blind fold on. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Central Intelligence Agency

Chapter 8: Central Intelligence Agency

"Can you chew with your mouth SHUT!" I yelled, frustrated, watching Ghost eat his lunch. He cackled mischievously and went back to his food.

I wasn't allowed to eat proper solid food yet, since my small intestine had been nicked. I was just thanking my lucky stars that Shepherd had been stupid enough to have used a full metal jacket bullet. A hollow tip would have ripped out half my guts and Ghost would be dead from losing half his heart and his most of his right lung. Full metal jacket bullets however, pass right through.

But what I wanted more than anything right now was to be able to eat the big juicy steak and golden, crispy potatoes that Soap and Ghost had. Instead I had a pulverized mash of yellow and green… stuff. Was it food? I prodded the gooey lump with my finger, moodily. I wasn't sure it was even edible. My mouth watered at the smell of meat and vegetables that wafted over from Ghost's plate. My stomach grumbled loudly and Ghost smirked into his lunch. He was gloating over the fact that he had a far more appetizing lunch than I did. If he had been any closer I was sure I would probably have wrestled the plate out of his hands and downed it in one mouthful in spite and hunger. I sighed in resignation, scooped up a forkful of the sludge on my plate and stuffed it into my mouth. It wasn't bad. But I would rather have had the steak.

Price sat in a rickety metal chair, next to MacTavish's bed flicking through a brown, crinkled newspaper. The American government was hunting Price and MacTavish now. Their names were higher on the most wanted list than Makarov's! Our names were now higher on the wanted list than an airport-massacring psychopath.

From what we understood, it sounded like Shepherd was trying to get some kind of warped revenge for the nuclear bomb explosion in the Iranian city, Ahvaz, 5 years ago. More than 30,000 US marines had died on that day. I had been lucky that day. Instead of joining the Americans, my unit and I were deployed to the Ukraine for a special ops mission. I had worked under the NZSAS back in those days. Before I was head hunted by General Shepherd for the Task Force 141.

Shepherd had hand picked us to carry out high-risk missions. But that was exactly why his actions made no sense. Why would you handpick a team of the best soldiers on the planet, if you were going to slaughter them like livestock one it was over? Maybe we knew something that he didn't want us to know. His last words echoed in my ears. '_That's one less loose end…_'

He had started his own war using Makarov as a scapegoat and Pvt. Joseph Allen as a pawn. He wanted America to unite and crush Russia, the country that had assisted in killing 30,000 Americans. He had framed his own Task Force for aiding in starting the war and so named us criminals.

A snort of disgust distracted me from my train of thought. Price was goggling with disbelief at an article in the newspaper.

"What?" asked MacTavish.

Price gave Soap a frightened glance, before he began folding up the large newspaper muttering, "Nothing, nothing."

Soap rolled his eyes and snatched the paper out of Price's hands, unfolding the crumpled paper to the page Price had been looking at.

A cloud of mixed emotions passed over MacTavish's face as he stared at the paper. Ghost abandoned his lunch and gazed intently at the two men. Soap's hands began to shake, the newspaper ruffling slightly.

Price reached out to clasped MacTavish firmly on the shoulder and said, "We knew this was what was going to happen Soap."

Ghost gazed at the two men, curiosity evident in his icy blue eyes. He had known MacTavish for a long time. Long enough to know that if the Captain was shaking he was severely pissed off.

"This. Should. Never. Have. Happened," whispered MacTavish through clenched teeth. The hairs of the back of my neck rose.

"Soap-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP PRICE!" yelled MacTavish suddenly, chucking the newspaper across the room with as much force as he could muster. Price recoiled from the sudden outburst like he had been slapped.

"My entire team is either dead or in hospital," said MacTavish, his voice seething with anger. "And it's because of me." MacTavish's eyes glistened with tears as he fought to keep his anger under control. I slid further under the sheets of my bed, hiding.

"Shut up the hell up Soap," growled Ghost.

MacTavish looked at the lieutenant, stunned. I was mentally measuring the distance between my bed and the door. There was going to be an explosion in here shortly and I didn't want to be caught up in the crossfire.

MacTavish quickly recovered and snarled, "What did you say Riley?"

"I said, shut the hell up!" replied Ghost in a matter-of-fact way, glaring at Soap. "You're a bloody amazing leader but you've got to get a hold of yourself. We all knew the risk. We never forget what we have on the line to do this job! So drop the hysterics John cause it makes you look pathetic."

MacTavish stared at Ghost, flabbergasted. He hadn't been called John in a very long time.

"You don't think we don't know what it's like to loose a team?" asked Ghost. I glanced at Ghost surprised. He didn't often bring up his past. "I was leader of a special ops team in Mexico when I was under the command of Major Vernon. I lost most of my team, when Vernon betrayed us and handed us over to a smuggler called Roba. The men who survived got so mentally fucked up that they went back to the bastard after they escaped. You lost your men in gunfire? I lost mine to sick medical experiments and torture."

Price cleared his throat and murmured, "And I'm sure you remember the bridge."

Soap glanced at Price who was staring intently at his hands.

"You think you're the only one to lose your men to a psychopath?" asked Ghost, glaring at Soap. "Get your head outta your arse and stop being pathetic! It really doesn't suit you."

"M'sorry," muttered Soap, who couldn't bring himself to look into the lieutenant's cold eyes.

An awkward silence blanketed the room, which no one seemed eager to break. I reached down for the newspaper article that Soap had thrown, which had landed with a soft bump, next to my bed. Unfolding it, I recognized the photo instantly. His bug eyes fixed me with a glower, which screamed out superiority. The gray handlebar moustache that hung above his mouth was combed and trimmed neatly until every bristle was in line and neatly arranged. A black beret decorated with a star-spangled blue patch, covered most of his grey hair. A bold headline above the photo wrote 'US General Allen Shepherd given honor burial at Arlington cemetery'. I quickly screwed up the paper and threw in to Ghost who was giving the paper a questioning look.

"Arlington huh?" stated Ghost nonchalantly after glancing at the article.

"Think they'll dig him out and dump him in rubbish bin the truth about him comes out?" I asked hopefully, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I knew that the American government would cover their tracks and Shepherd would still be portrayed as a war hero for public confidence. Everything would be quietly swept under the rug and returned to normal, when we could make them listen… If we could make them listen.

"Alight gents," announced Price, "we need to figure out how we're going to get the Intel to the states without outing ourselves in danger"

"What if Nikolai takes it?" asked Ghost with a shrug, "No one is looking for him."

Price looked at Ghost with surprise, an eyebrow raised. "Aren't we supposed to be nice to people who save us and not send them into a place where they could potentially die?"

"Besides, Nikolai has probably also been named a war criminal for helping us," said John MacTavish.

"Do you have anyone in America we can trust?" I asked quietly. The British SAS had done a lot of joint operations with the Navy Seals before. What we really needed was a member of the CIA. Someone who had access to information that we could use against Shepherd. One of the members of the Task Force 141 had been a part of the CIA. His name had been Pvt. Joseph Allen, the newest member of the Task Force, and the first to die in the war. We had only met a day before his undercover operation was supposed to start, when Captain MacTavish and I had returned from Kazakhstan when we retrieved a downed ACS module from a Russian military base.

A thoughtful silence descended upon the room again.

"I know a guy from the CIA," said Price slowly, measuring out each word as he said it, "I could ask him to have a snoop around the network and see if he can dig any dirt up on Shepherd."

Ghost looked skeptical. "Can he be trusted?" he asked.

"Yes Simon he can," replied Price, looking at Ghost with concern. "We worked together when I was with the SAS. He used to provide a large proportion of the Intel for missions. We were good friends"

"Yeah, 5 years ago," said Ghost giving Price a hard look. "Would you, John Price, be willing to put your life and the lives of your friends on the line to trust him?"

Price stared out the window, pensive. After a while he turned to face Ghost again, his expression certain. "Yes Riley I am."

A brief silence followed his words.

"Alright," I said with finality, glancing at the men in the room. If Price felt he could bet our lives in faith his friend wouldn't betray us, then I would trust him too.

MacTavish stiffly nodded in agreement. If he was anything like me right now, he'd be struggling to come to terms with trusting someone outside the Task Force 141. But it was the best plan we had. If we didn't clear our names we'd be hunted for the better part of our lives. A life on the run. Something about that didn't sound very appealing.

Ghost stayed quiet, glaring at his abandoned lunch. He had trouble trusting anyone now. Ever since he and his team had been betrayed by their Commanding Officer, Major Vernon. Vernon had handed Ghost and his under cover team, over to a smuggler called Roba. In an attempt to get Ghost over to his side, Roba tortured him, ripping his mind to shreds until Ghost barely knew who he was anymore. When Ghost escaped, he went back to England to his family. Shortly after his return to England however, his family was brutally murdered by individuals who had been friends. He had hunted them down and had taken his revenge, killing both of them slowly, letting them feel the agony he had felt. The death of his family had destroyed him. After that he had made an effort of living his life in solitude, away from anyone who could betray him.

That was until he met Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish. They had somehow clicked, a mutual understanding and faith building between the two men. Gradually, Simon 'Ghost' Riley learnt to trust MacTavish with his life. He knew that MacTavish would always have his back, no matter what and he would always have MacTavish's. However, Shepherd's betrayal would have dug up all his insecurities again. Even though friends surrounded him, all he'd see would be potential enemies. He'd always be terrified that we'd turn on him.

"It's the best plan we have Ghost," muttered MacTavish, giving Simon stern look.

Ghost rolled his eyes in annoyance. "If it's the best plan we have then we're stuffed," he growled.

"What's your idea then?" asked Price, irritation clear in his voice.

"We go after Makarov, get the information off him and then send it back to the states."

Price raised an eyebrow at the idea. "Do you really think the Americans are going to just believe the Intel we give them? On top of that, it's Intel coming from a well-known terrorist. A Russian terrorist at that."

I had to admit, Price had a point. Shepherd had been given a blank check by the US secretary of defense. This kind of information could topple a government. If Intel revealed Shepherd had double-crossed his own country, American's would loose faith in its leaders. If the US could somehow find an excuse to dismiss the Intel, then they would. Only if the information came out of America, would they listen and wipe our names off the most wanted list.

Ghost looked unconvinced. He exchanged a glance with Soap, his expression softening slightly. He could trust Soap. And if Soap trusted Price's judgment, then Ghost would have to trust Price too. He sighed in resignation and muttered, "You're gonna be the death of me MacTavish."

Price stood up and announced with finality, "I'm gonna get in contact with him. When I get back we should have a better idea of how we're going to do this."

He slipped out of the door, the rubber on his combat boots screeching on the cold stone floor as he walked.

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**Price has a plan and I may have a story! =D**

**AH HA! Roach's nationality has been stated! He is from New Zealand according to me! =P**

**Sorry it's taken so long to write. I've been sick as a dog with the flu! Anyway please review! Reviews make me happy! =D**

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**A HUGE THANK YOU TO ANON who constructively critiqued the story! **

**First off YES I'm so annoyed that the fact that they're in a field passed my attention. I replayed the level the other day and realized! *Facepalm***

**Secondly, I read that Roach probably wears goggles somewhere after I wrote the first chapter. I also noticed that you get the frost accumulation and that petrol sides over his goggles, much to my disgust, since I had said he closed his eyes to keep the petrol out of them.**

**Thirdly, yeah Roach doing CPR was good point. My thinking at the time was that, when we did a first aid class a few years ago the instructor said its very unlikely to get the person you are giving CPR to revive by restarting their heart and you really need a deliberator to do that. So Roach; thinking he would had been abandoned and that Ghost was dead; may have thought it was pointless. But yes if I had been in his position I probably would have tried CPR on him… or maybe it would just to touch his lips (I'm a girl)…. hmmmmmm… either one sounds pretty good! =P**

**BUT YES VERY GOOD AND VALID POINTS! I may have to look at changing those details now! I was just disappointed that I couldn't email you to say this! Thankyothankyouthankyou!**


	10. Wake Up Call

**Ok this is important! Ghost's name is Simon Riley and Soap's is John MacTavish. Unfortunately I'm not sure how to weave that information into the story and I'm going to be using their names and nicknames interchangeably. So just so you don't get too confused, that's that little bit of information just to clear the air. I'm so sorry for taking SO long to update. I had exams and assignments coming out of my ears and than had a serious case of writers block and extreme laziness! *****looks ashamed*******

**Anyway! Here is the next chapter! I will do my best to get the next chapter up quick! Anyway! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 9: Wake Up Call

The silver glare from the crescent moon illuminated the ward, every minute detail showing up in sharp contrast. I had tired and failed to fall asleep several hours ago, now content to watch the glittering stars and moon though the open window. The soft echoing whoosh of the AC filled the room. It seemed pointless to keep the AC on with the window open but no one had said or done anything about it. Plus I couldn't be bothered getting up to investigate how to turn the little machine off.

The other day I had finally been allowed to get up and walk around. Much to the amusement of John and Simon, I had fallen flat on my face during my first attempt. On my second attempt I had managed to stay balanced long enough to walk over to John's bed to strangle him. Soap, Ghost and Price were now fast asleep. I was just thankful they weren't snorers.

I sighed contentedly, stretching so that the bones in my back gave a satisfying pop as they clicked back into place. A bat flashed past the window, lazily riding the warm air currents, hunting for crunchy insects. Cracking my jaw in a yawn, I continued watching the moon, it's silvery white glow reflecting off the cream colored buildings of the city.

Price's friend at the CIA, Kerian Doberman, had been busy researching General Shepherd's history and goings on. It was risky to contact someone right under the nose of the Americans, but it was the best plan we had. We had decided that intel needed to come from inside as well as outside America, to make our case convincing. So we were going to go after Makarov to get it, much to Ghost pleasure.

I drifted off to sleep slowly, incoherent thoughts floating through my head. My eyes fluttering closed, blocking out the rising moon, the gliding bats and the sleeping figures of my comrades.

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My eyes snapped open as a pair of hands squeezed over my throat, my calm sleepy haze immediately disappearing as a brutal wave of terror engulfed me. I gasped for breath, blinking through the black spots that now covered my vision to see the face of Simon 'Ghost' Riley above me. His face was slack, eyes a cold indifferent blue. My hands were instinctively wrapped around his hands, trying vainly to relieve the pressure on my windpipe. I choked and spluttered, my vision dancing with black spots.

"What the hell is going on?" muttered a sleepy voice to my right.

I lifted my arms above my head and drove my elbow into his arm causing him to grunt with pain and relinquish his hold on my throat. The brief pause allowed me to throw my self out of the bed and run to the other side of the room, coughing. I reached the window and promptly fell down to the floor.

"Roach?"

"What's going on? Ghost what the hell are you doing?"

I rested my back against the wall under the window, blinking against the pressing black of the room to see where Ghost was. What the hell was going on? Why was he trying to strangle me?

I watched as Price leapt out of his bed and ran to my bed where Ghost was. He had fallen to the floor after I had hit him and was now staring around the room in confusion, cradling his arm against his body.

"You alright mate" Price asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"What's going on? Where…. What the hell am I doing here?"

I rested my head against the wall, trying to relearn to breathe. I blinked furiously as I felt my consciousness sway; trying to fight against the shock that now had me shivering in the warm room.

Someone touched my shoulder, causing me to flinch and crawl away. I looked up into the bright blue eyes of MacTavish, regarding me with alarm.

"Where's Roach?" asked Price suddenly, only just realizing my bed was empty.

"Over here," replied MacTavish, "Roach. You ok?"

I could have laughed at the absurdity of the question. Why do people always ask you that when it is so obvious that you aren't ok? I shook my head, closing my eyes against my head, which was now spinning. I felt like I was going to puke.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders, as MacTavish pulled me into a hug. I frowned slightly at the gesture but instantly felt better. I exhaled a shaky breath as Price and Ghost approached. Swallowing, I tried my voice.

"What the hell Ghost?" I asked, my voice horse and quiet. At least I could talk. Bully for me.

"I don't… What happened?" Ghost asked. He sounded close to tears, his voice thick with emotion.

"You tried to choke me you fucking twat," I murmured into MacTavish's shoulder. Right now I wanted to be staunch, to stand up and yell at him. However, MacTavish kept me in the hug, making me feel like a little kid who'd had a terrible day at school.

"I…. What? I don't remember… anything… I," Ghost instantly crumpled to the floor, his face in his hands.

Price just stood there, shock and surprise evident on his face

"Has this happened before Simon?" asked Price, his voice a calm and measured.

Ghost's shoulders trembled, "No sir."

MacTavish exchanged a look of concern with Price. "What do you remember Ghost?"

"I was dreaming. It was an old nightmare I used to get," he looked at me, tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry Gary."

A lump formed in my throat at the pitiful sight. He may have strangled me but it was unintentional. I knew it was stupid, but I felt guilty for making him upset.

"It's ok Ghost," I muttered, my voice muffled by Soap's shoulder. I had stopped shaking now, the warmth of MacTavish's body calming me down. I still felt uncomfortable being hugged by a guy and my face was starting to grow hot.

"Uh... MacTavish?"

"Yeh?"

"Can you… stop hugging me now?"

I felt John laugh in response. "Sure bug. I'll grab you a hot chocolate or something. Should be something around here." he replied, his knees cracking as he stood up, heading towards the door.

I heard Price sigh and slide down the wall to sit next to me. I kept my focus on Ghost who was now rocking gently on the stone floor.

"I think it's about time we get out of the hospital," announced Price. The statement caught me off guard. It had only been 2 weeks. John and Simon were gradually getting their lung capacity back to normal but they were still a way off being fully recovered. I was sure I could handle myself and Price was doing better than all of us. But I still didn't feel confident that if we were ambushed by any military unit that we would stand a chance.

"Heard someone was getting murdered."

Kamarov and Nikolai walked casually through the door, flicking on the lights. Nikolai's eyes immediately darted around the room searching for threats. Habits are hard to break I guess.

"So... who strangled who?" asked Kamarov casually, flopping down next to Price. Ghost remained silent and unmoving, save the slight trembling of his shoulders.

"Ghost did a bit of sleepwalking," I answered quickly. "It was nothing." I didn't need or want anyone making a fuss. No one was dead. No one was hurt. Why squawk about it?

"Ah. Another day in the military," yawned Nikolai, sitting down on the end of Ghost's bed.

"How long would it take to get ready to leave Quetta Nikolai?" asked Price, rubbing his temples.

"Not much more than 20 minutes. We'd need to get to the airport and fuel up first."

"Ah. A good idea Price," muttered Kamarov, his face grave. "I heard the staff are getting suspicious about you all. Not sure you aren't rogues or terrorists in hiding."

"It wouldn't take much for word to get out. And if it did, the rangers would be all over the place in a matter of hours." murmured Price in agreement.

I glanced up at Ghost. His red-rimmed eyes gazed at me with sharp intensity. "I'm so sorry Roach," he whispered, barely moving his cracked lips as he spoke.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it mate. Shaken not stirred. I'll be fine."

He looked unconvinced, but left the discussion at that. He knew that if he pushed his apology on me, I'd get annoyed. One of the reasons we're still great friends.

At that moment, Soap slipped through the door, closing it with a faint click, a styrofoam cup clasped in his hand. "Sorry mate. Only tea," he muttered, handing the cup to me gingerly, trying not to spill its hot contents. He turned his attention to Price and said "We need to get out of here tonight."

Nikolai stood with a fluent cat-like motion, striding towards the door. "I'll get the helicopter ready to go. Meet me at the runway in 20 minutes and we'll have an immediate departure."

"Where are we going to go?" I asked when the door shut behind Nikolai, trying to hide my annoyance that we were leaving. I knew it was stupid to get upset about leaving the hospital, as it was quite likely the American troops would find out where we were and storm the place. But I felt foolishly safe here, a comforting feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time.

"We are going to the headquarters of the Russian loyalists. We will rest there before we head out to capture Makarov," whispered Kamarov, clearly anxious about being overheard.

I stared at the floor, my jagged, bitten nails scratching the cup sides with an irritating squeak, muling over their plan. I took a long drought from the cup, the hot liquid warming me up from the inside. It stopped the shivers that ran through my body almost instantly, chasing away some of the shock of my wake up call.

"Alright come on men," murmured Price suddenly, standing up, offering me his hand. "Pack up and get ready. We leave in 2 minutes."

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**So they are leaving the hospital and going on their adventure! Sudden huh? I know that with the injuries they had it would take ages to be able to run across the room or do much at all. But who wants them stuck in hospital for another few weeks? ON WITH THE ACTION!**


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